A Tale of Epidemic Proportions
by Cylonite
Summary: An intern aboard a vykker airship becomes infected with a disease known as cylonite. All hell breaks loose. All chapters have been written; they just need uploading.
1. Chapter 1

a tale of **epidemic** proportions

When all hell breaks loose, who can they trust?

The craft was mighty, regal, an unbearably sterile. It glided effortlessly over the forest below, casting a dynamic shadow that followed its every move. It was twice the size of the Vykker's Labs and shaped like an imposing, perfectly curved wedding cake. It had twelve floors plus a basement, a lookout tower, and a winding sewer system.  
A vykker was working in a dark, round room lined with various knives and equiptment. Dangling from the ceiling high above his head was a flamboyant cherry-red lazer that could cut through flesh as though it were butter. It was his favorite tool. Sighing, he flipped open his notebook to a random page and read over it quickly;

_....day six, test three. The fuzzle subjects treated with the Cylonite have shown signs of revolt. Well, they're definately pissed off. They even attacked an intern bringing their food and gnawed the skin off his bones, it was pretty funny to watch, actually. No, its wonderful! Its amazing! Its exactly what I needed. It just proves my theory; Cylonite is a steroid, a disease. Its like the new-age version of rabies. We placed the fuzzles in a special quarrantine pen, where the disease won't spread._

_  
...day eleven, test three. Half the fuzzles have died, the other half had been eaten by their cagemates. Where did we go wrong? What is their modivation to kill and attack? _

"Bah." He threw it across the room with a flick of his wrist. An intern standing by bent down and picked it up obediantly, trying not to upset his boss; he had a habit of going crazy at times.

"Nedd, go get me more fuzzles." The vykker ordered as he mixed a jar containing a black chemical together. Nedd muttered something under his breath and left. He returned a minute later with a cart piled high with fuzzle cages. The fuzzles inside snarled and shrank away as the vykker grabbed a cage at random, threw it at the desk, and pulled a pair of goggles over his head. He turned on a tape recorder and said:

"Day one, text four. For odd's sake, Nedd, put your damn goggles on!"

The intern known as Nedd bobbed his head as he listened to the heavy metal blasting from his headphones, completely obvilious. The vykker snatched the headphones, tore a handful of wires out of its battery holder, and shoved them back in Nedd's hands. Nedd stared down at them in sheer horror.

"Put your goggles on!" The vykker snarled.

"Mmmmm mmm?" Nedd hummed weakly, trying to sound helpful. He pointed towards a medicine cabnet across the room.

"No I don't want to take my happy pills!" The vykker snarled, slapping a pair of goggles over the intern's head. "What is wrong with you?"

Nedd didn't answer. He rummaged around in a drawer and gently removed a hypodermic needle. The vykker took it, tilted it back, and carefully began filling it with the thin, coal-black liquid in the jar. It was vital that they take their time; if they made a single mistake, they could both be infected.  
The syringe was eventually filled. Satisfied, the vykker said;

"Get the fuzzle."

Nedd hated this part the most.

He put on a pair of thick gardening gloves, his eyes dull, and thrust his hand in the open cage. It was like sticking his hand into a paper shredder. He cried out as the fuzzle cut easily through the gloves and latched onto his fingers, gnawing with merciless precision. Nedd grabbed it with a hand and slammed it against the desk, knocking over a beaker filled with a bubbling liquid in the process. It crashed against the floor. The fuzzle's eyes rolled wildly, and it wimpered loudly- it was temporarily stunned. The vykker plunged the needle into the fuzzle's chest and injected the liquid. Nedd roughly shoved the creature into a safety-glass box from a thick rubber hose. Fuzzles could go in, but they couldn't get out. It rammed its head against the glass with a feral snarl, but quickly gave up. Escape was impossible.

Nedd was still panting heavily from the struggle, holding his hand by the wrist, which was shredded to a pulp. The vykker grinned.

"One down. Now lets get the rest!"

Nedd groaned loudly.

~{.epidemic.}~

Night had come. A lone fuzzle sat in a quarrantine cage surrounded by tufts of bloodied fur. Its eyes were dark red, and its pupils were like pinpricks. Its breathing became labored and entire patches of fur fell from its sides. Its flesh, revealed from the mangy spots missing, was a sickly, blotched cream color. It was the winner; it had eaten through its cagemates, which had once been loyal allies, just to survive. It was no longer a fuzzle. It was a monster.

It spat out a mouthful of blood and hopped over to the cage's lock, hissing to itself. It closed its mouth over the contraption, sank in his teeth, and got to work. It would only be a matter of hours before it would be free to infect whoever it pleased....


	2. Chapter 2

1The generator room was a huge chamber built into the heart of the craft. Lined around its inside were two low floors of metal grating with long pathways leading towards a shimmering, cyan-green cylinder in its center. The object was tall and heavily plated with intricate metal gears and tubes that were constantly rotating, generating its own energy. At its top, surrounded by thick steel and a sticky silver liquid, was a paper-thin computer chip the size of a Vykker's fist. It was programmed with artifitial intelligence and ran on a tight scheduel: at exactly 10:00 pm, it turned all the lights in the entire craft off. At 6:00 am, it turned the lights in the entire craft on, minus the basement. The lights in the basement were always kept off.

It powered the entire ship. Certain parts of the generator could be deactivated, such as the private personel locks, but they entire thing could not be turned off, no matter the circumstances.  
The ship was on a set course to an airfield hundreds of miles away; it would be three weeks before it reached its destination...

~{.epidemic.}~

Another day, another dollar. To interns this saying meant nothing. They were grossly underpaid and absurdly overworked, and, seeing as most worked in windowless airships their entire lives, often lost their conception of time. It was slightly depressing, and Nedd tended to ignore it.

Nedd was busily stacking fuzzle cages in order of use. The fuzzles were getting a kick out of scaring him; he was the kind of intern who seemed to be a magnet for trouble. He was always getting mauled by fuzzles or catching life-threataning diseases in some freak accident, and because of this he was always wide-eyed and wary. A fuzzle in a cage bared its teeth and puffed up its fur, a wild look in its eyes. Nedd jumped back, arms flailing, and felt ridiculous when he realised that the fuzzle was just trying to scare him. Nedd frowned smugly and shook the fuzzle's cage around, watching as it was thrown cruely from side to side.

When he was finished with his chore, Nedd pushed the cart of stacked fuzzles back into place and turned to leave. But something was wrong. He looked around, trying to figure out what was bugging him; he knew something was out of place, but what? He spotted an empty glass quarrantine cage in a corner. It was wrapped in a chain attatched to a broken padlock. He jumped in suprise, his head barely missing the cieling.

_OH SH--!_

He turned and started running at the same time, knocking over his freshy-stacked fuzzle cages. He paid it no mind. Nedd sped hastily down the hall, practically trampling anybody who got in his way, until he came to the domed room where his boss was working. The room was full of vykkers diligantly disecting an elum, but no interns. Nedd gulped; this made explaining a whole lot harder.  
He ran up to his boss, humming loudly as he tried to explain his predicament. His boss spotted him and snapped

"What?! What is it this time? Did you give yourself a concussion again---"

"MMMMMMM!" Nedd howled. He grabbed a notebook and a pen and furiously scrabbled a few words, only to find that the pen was out of ink.

"What ever it is," his boss said shrilly, "it can wait."

Nedd began furiously making signals with his hands, but he was moving so fast that his boss had no idea what he was trying to say. A few more vykkers threw in some suggestions.

"I thinks he's saying that the guard slogs broke loose." One said.

"The ships' hurtling towards the ground?" Another asked.

"No, I think he's saying he burned a hole in the floor with a bottle of sulphuric acid--"

"What? This", a vykker mimiced one of Nedd's motions, "does not look like sulphuric acid at all!"

Nedd slapped his forehead and growled loudly. This was getting nowhere. He decided to use cherades, only slower.

He tapped his wrist with three fingers. _Three words._ He held up one finger. _First word._ He tapped his wrist with three fingers again. _Three syllables._

"Okay." His boss said. All the vykkers in the room left what they were doing and joined in, unaware of the bad news Nedd brought. Nedd looked around, trying to figure out a way to describe Cylonite. He rushed over to the dead elum's head, picked up a knife, and made a careful insicion across on eye. A blackish liquid dripped out. He pointed to it furiously.

"Eye goo!" A vykker said exitedly, sure that he was correct. Nedd shook his head. He opened a drawer, picked up a syringe, and pretended to laborously fill it with the blackish syrup. His boss shrieked,

"Cylonite!"

Nedd nodded exessively. His boss beamed. "Hey, I got it! So the first word is Cylonite."

Nedd held up two fingers, _second word_, looking pleased; this was working better than he thought it would. He tapped his wrist with two fingers. _Two syllables._  
He looked around. A fuzzle in a cage was dozing quietly. He pointed at it.

"Fuzzle!" another vykker called out. Nedd nodded again. He held up three fingers, _third word,_ and tapped his wrist with two fingers. _Two syllables._

Nedd thought long and hard. How could he possibly describe such a complicated word? He ran over to the sleeping fuzzle and opened its cage. It didn't notice. Nedd angrily slapped it and it sprang to life, hissing and snarling. The cage was wide open. It jumped out, biting and hissing, and scurried under a desk.

A vykker snapped, "Hey! Why did you do that? I spent days trying to catch that thing---"

"ESCAPED!" His boss yelled. Nedd nodded and waited expectantly. The vykkers were silent for a long time, unsure of what to do next. Suddently, everything fell into place.

"OH MY ODD!" A vykker screamed. "THE CYLONITE FUZZLE ESCAPED!!"

It was chaotic! Ten vykkers dove all at once at the emergency control button drilled to the wall. One of them grabbed it, punched it roughly, and pulled a phone-like object from its side. He spoke into it hurriedly.

_We have an escape in section four, room 31.... caution advised... we have a dangerous, Cylonite-infected fuzzle roaming the premesis..._

A mere seconds later four interns dressed into protective armor burst into a room, each wielding a thick rubber hose connected to a box strapped to their backs. They turned them on and immediately began firing a spray of anti-bacterial foam that flooded the room and bleached all the color from the walls. It was up to their waists and growing higher with each passing second. Vykkers were slipping and falling all over the place and Nedd was practically floundering in the stuff, unable to breathe through the thick wall of foam. The interns finally turned the hoses off and marched down the hall to disinfect the other rooms. Nedd's boss poked his head out of the lather.

"What the hell was THAT?!" He demanded, standing up. He slipped and fell back over, causing foam to fill the air. A vykker dressed in a similar protective suit entered the room.

"Its basic regulations," it droned. "Chapter four, sub-section seventeen, regulation---"

"I don't care WHERE its written," Nedd's boss snarled, "I just want it OUT OF MY ROOM!"

"I can't do that," The armored vykker said dully, "Chapter one, sub-section three, regulation 81, page six clearly states that anyone who---"

"Its RUINED!" Another vykker bawled. "OUR DISECTION! We were cutting AN ELUM TO PIECES! You've RUINED IT!"

"For all elum-related interruptions, please read Chapter----"

"MMMM!" Nedd snarled, his hands on his hips. "MMMMmmm mmm MMM MMM-MMMMM!!!"

"What he said!" A vykker agreed.

The armored vykker sighed. "My apologies," it said without the faintest hint of remorse. "But rest assured that even at this moment we are searching---"  
"Uh." Two more armored vykkers shuffled anxiously into the room. Their faces were covered, but there was obvious embarassment in their voices. "Where did you say it ran away?"

There was a pause, and everybody wondered the same thing; who were these people? And more importantly, who hired them? They were disgustingly undertrained, yet worked with almost robotic order.

"Mmmm...." Nedd said, pointing to his left, where he had run from, "....mmmmmm mmmm."

"Thanks!" the vykkers said, hurrying out the door.

There was an even longer pause. Somebody in the back coughed. Then, finally, Nedd's boss said,

"Nedd, go get some more interns. We'll need to clean this up. And get me a new elum!"

Nedd sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was to go back to the room where the violently-infected fuzzle had escaped just to get an elum. He walked to the door, and his boss said as he left,

"Oh, and Nedd," Nedd turned to see what other ridiculous commands he had, "watch your step."


	3. Chapter 3

1By the time that they had cleaned up all the foam, thrown it off the ship, re-painted the walls, replaced all the vykker's contaminated tools, disected a new elum, and caught the normal fuzzle he had released during cerades, Nedd was exhausted. That, however, didn't stop his boss from rapping our orders just as harshly as he always did.

"NEDD! WE NEED MORE FUZZLES!"

"NEDD! THIS SLOG BIT ME!"

"NEDD! STICK YOUR HAND DOWN THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL AND FIND OUT WHATS CLOGGING IT UP!"

Needless to say, Nedd was relieved when the day finally ended.

~{.epidemic.}~

The lights came on. Nedd groaned and sat up, only to smack his head against the top of his metal bunkbead. He groaned louder. Dan poked his head down from the top bunk quizzically with a look that read 'you do that every day; don't you ever _think_?'

Nedd forced himself to get out of bed. He, along with all 299 of his intern collegues, slept in a large, barrack-like room that, for no reason whatsoever, smelled strongly of lemon-scented air fresheners. It was cramped, always lit as brightly as possible, and was hot and sweaty. He hated it.

Nedd yawned as best he could with the stitches covering his mouth and left; the sooner he left that place, which he considered to be some complicated form of hell on earth, the better.

After nearly twenty minutes of walking, taking elevators, trudging up stairs, wandering aimlessly down hallways, and nearly getting run over by speeding stretchers, Nedd came to the large room where he always worked. He looked it over in confusion. For one thing, his boss was up before him and standing in the middle of the room, which rarely ever happened, and for another, every conceivable square inch of the floor was covered in mouse traps. His boss rubbed his claws together, snickering evilly.

"If this doesn't catch that fuzzle, I don't know what will..." He cackled. Brux peeked inside the room, grinning excitedly.  
"I know!" He agreed. "That fuzzle will be dead, I know it will! Oh, it just makes me as jittery as a jackhammer to---"

"_Okay,_" Nedd's boss said with a careless motion of his hand, "I really don't care, go away."

Brux skipped away happily. Nedd stared down at the floor, inquesting on how he could get across. There was absolutely no space to walk, no matter how careful he was. He tentatively raised his foot and nudged aside a few traps. One of the traps jumped up and snapped in the air, and Nedd fell back, trembling violently. His boss burst out laughing.

"Your pathetic! Now go get me a fuzzle."

Nedd got up and left before his boss noticed how embarassed he was. He couldin't help being terrified of everything that moved; it was in his nature. Nedd came to a dark, damp room packed to the brim with fuzzle cages sitting on shelves. They all snarled at him as he walked by, and he tried his best to keep to the middle of the room and away from them. He weaved around racks of cages and ducked under more hanging haphazardously from the ceiling, and quickly realised that he was lost. He turned around. Behind him all the cages looked the same. He couldn't even tell which way he came from. Nedd rolled his eyes. He was tired of things like this only happening to him.

Something scuffled across the floor.

Nedd looked around wildly, terror in his eyes. What had made that noise? Had a fuzzle broken loose? The sound grew louder, and a distinct growling sound rang in the air. A little lopsided shape jiggled in the shadows, silouetted by the faint light. Nedd backed up, his hands out in front of him, as though somehow blocking the shape. The shape mumbled and looked up at him with dark, luminous red eyes. It opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Its tongue, throat, and gums were a sickly, decaying, aged-cream color.

_NO!_ Nedd thought, running back. He pushed over a fuzzle-covered rack, and the cages clattered angrily together as they collided with the floor. The infected fuzzle emerged from under the rack. Its skin was blotchy and yellow and it seemed bizzarely swollen. It looked as though it had a bad case of mange. It eyed him spitefully and snapped its jaws, causing foam to fleck the ground. Nedd reached for whatever he could get his hands on. He grabbed a mould-caked mop and waved it threataningly in the air, trembling so vigorously that he could barely keep his grip on its handle.

The fuzzle sprang at him!

Nedd screamed and swung the mop, battering the fuzzle aside as hard as he could. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, suprisingly unharmed. It howled and sprang a second time, skidded to the left, and dove at him. Nedd swung the mop and missed. The fuzzle hit him square in the chest and opened its mouth to bite him. Nedd wrestled it to the floor and punched at it, missed it completely, and cracked his knuckles against the cement floor. He winced, still trembling. The fuzzle jumped up to his face, a fuzzy, snarling ball of terror and agony, and opened its jaws. Nedd slammed it to the floor. The fuzzle was temporarily stunned. He pummeled it again and again and again, screaming in raw panic, until blood drenched his fingers. Nedd fell down on his back in a daze, staring up at the cieling. The fuzzle was a bloodied lump of grizzle on the floor. Nedd held his right hand with his left, covering it as though he couldin't stand the sight. Then, carefully, he removed his hand. Ten small holes ran in a circle over the back of his hand.

What could he do? Who could he turn to? If anybody found out about this, they'd kill him; they were ruthless enough to do it.

He curled up into a ball on the floor, as limp as a dead fish, his eyes unseeing, expressionless. He had been bitten. He was infected.


	4. Chapter 4

1Just like in all life-death situations, first came denial and disbelief. Nedd was still sitting in the messy, cage-lined room, straining his brain as he considered what could happen. After at least an hour of thinking he narrowed his options down to four possibilities:

One. He wasn't infected and could just get on with his life all happy and cheery and skip through fields of flowers on cloudless days with rainbows and unicorns without a worry in sight.

Two. He _was_ infected and would die a slow and painful death and it would be weeks before his body was found.

Three. He could pretend nothing never happened and hope and pray that nothing ever went wrong.

Four. He could become a ballistic Cylonite victim, go on a killing rampage, and wait for all his problems to just blow over.

Nedd picked himself up off the ground and brushed the dust from his sholders. He decided just to wait it out; maybe an answer would surface soon. He looked around. The little pile of gore that was once an infected fuzzle still sat on the floor. Disgusted, Nedd swept it up with the mouldy mop and pushed it down a nearby drain. All that was left was a bloody stain. He nodded with satisfaction and shook himself off to calm his nerves before leaving.

~{.epidemic.}~

They vykker stared in horror at the monster slamming itself against the large safety glass cage, its mouth frothing profoundly. It snapped its jaws, tilted back its head, and gave a feral howl.

"Fantastic!" The vykker gasped, pressing his claws against the glass. The infected slog threw itself at the vykker and snarled, enraged that it couldn't harm its target. "Absolutely fantastic!"

"We injected it with Cylonite less than a week ago," a vykker covered in a silver safety suit said. Nedd's boss tapped the glass, sending the slog into a fit. The slog had sickly, creamy yellow skin covered in overlapping maple-syrup colored spots, a massive foaming mouth, and bulging muscles all over its body. It snarled and bit at its own legs as though they were an enemy.

"Its completely delusional," the vykker continued as Dan poked the glass with his finger, taunting the slog. "It attacks the glass, the ground, even itself. Its metabolism is twice as fast as normal and it can move at unnatural speed, the highest of which we recorded was 45 miles per hour. Even the strongest guard slogs in the basement can only run a maximum of thirty-"

"NEDD!" Nedd's boss screeched unexpectedly. Nedd peeked warily in the room. "Where have you been this entire time? And what in odds' name happened to you?"

Nedd looked down at himself dumbly. His left arm up to his elbow was covered in blood, though his boss couldin't see any injury, and he had ten small, swollen, bruse-colored holes in his right hand. He was also caked in dust. He shrugged weakly, looking startled.

His boss lost interest; he never cared for Nedd's well-being. "Get your ass in here, and wash your arm, its disgusting."

Nedd did as he was bidden. The vykker continued his lecture on the effects of Cylonite, glad that he sounded smart.

~{.epidemic.}~

It was 9:45 pm.

The day had gone by eventlessly for Dan; he helped Helix and Brux examine a group of chemically-engineered meep, sat boredly through the discussion on Cylonite, and sorted a few files. Nothing special. He passed through a large chamber with at least fifty doors and stairs in the center of the craft that was used as a main intersection- everybody passed through it at some time during their day. He wove through the crowds of interns and vykkers, heading for the intern barraks, when suddenly the unexpected happened.

"Get down! _Get down!_" Somebody screamed frantically. The crowd chifted, and cries and yelps filled the air. Dan looked around wildly; what was going on? He could hear shots being fired from a distance, and angry barks coming from two broad metal doors leading to the unpredictable gloom of the basement. He stepped back instinctively, terror in his eyes, when suddently the doors swung open. A pack of slogs, twenty strong at the least, careened forward. They drooled ravenously and pounced on the first person they could reach, tearing him to shreds.

"WE NEED BACKUP! QUICKLY, QUICKLY, IN THE MAIN INTERSECTION, FIRST FLOOR..." A slig, one of the few on board the craft and used as a guard, screamed into a walkie-talkie. Fifteen shapes, a mixture of sligs and interns, ran out of the basement in prusuit of the slogs. They all wore silver and black protective suits and were packing snoozis. Interns and vykkers ran flailing in all directions, locking the doors behind them as they hid in rooms.

_Shit!_ Dan cursed to himself, rushing towards a door. It slammed shut and locked. He looked around. He was trapped.

A nearby slig collapsed under a churning mass of slogs, gurgling in his death throes. He threw his arm out at his side and the snoozi in his hand skidded across the floor. Dan picked it up instinctively, and the gun clattered inbetween his quaking hands.

Slogs were everywhere, biting everything they could lock their jaws around. A vykker clad in similar armor, the only one there, fired his weapon. A slog in his range fell over with a strangled yelp. Dan could hear the vykker cursing as he took aim again:  
"Damn slogs, just can't get enough action underground... if we had more guards this wouldn't be a problem!" He fired again, killing another slog. Bullets filled the air, screeching as they went.

Two slogs plowed forward through the mass of bodies and dropped equiptment, their tongues rolling over their razor-sharp teeth. Dan cried out and ran the other way, threw himself at a stairway, and screamed again when he realised that it lead to a locked door. The slogs followed relentlessly, their feet pounding the ground and their breath raw and stingy...

Dan fired twice, dropping the first slog. The other slog bolted forward with lightning speed. Dan heard it speed by his legs, felt it knock him flat. He fired again. It hit the slog directly inbetween where its eyes would be. It collapsed under its own weight.

The fight was over. The remaining handful of slogs, some wounded, ran back into the basement, yelping. Dan stayed down. He knew that if he tried to stand up, he would just collapse again; his legs were as limp as wet noodles. He pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"You!" The vykker yelled from the bottom of the stairs, pointing at Dan. Dan pointed at himself, suprised. "Yes, you. Are you working for the Guard?"

The Guard was, obviously, the term for the guards who patrolled the premesis, mostly at night. Dan shook his head. The vykker grunted in suprise.

"We need more guards." Dan's eyes flicked upward, suddently interested. "You have good aim. Want a job?"

That was unexpected. Dan pointed at himself again. The vykker rolled his eyes from under his mask. "Yes, I _am_ talking to you. Well, do you want it or not?"

Dan nodded, beaming. The vykker nodded.

"Report to the Guard Tower at Eight-o-hundred hours." Then he turned and left to help the others clean up the mess.

Dan couldn't believe what he had just heard. He also couldn't believe that he accepted the job. Nonetheless, he felt as content as a cuccumber to show up at the guard tower as assighed; he would get paid more as a guard, and, plus, he had never been in the craft's only tower, which was the highest point in the entire ship. He grinned furiously, got up, and headed for the intern barracks. Oh, how jealous they would be! He couldn't help but laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

1The lights in the barracks turned on at exactly 6 am as they always did.

Nedd forced his eyes open and groaned. His entire body was sore, and he was as stiff as a corpse. He felt his neck with a hand. His skin was waxy and he was drenched in sweat. He sat up, careful to avoid hitting his head on the metal bunkbead above, and rubbed away the glue from around his eyes.

"Mmmm?" _Whats up?_ Dan asked, leaning over from the top bunk.

_I feel terrible._ Nedd complained. Dan glowed with pride.

_Well I don't..._ Oh odd, don't say it, Nedd thought, _... because I got a job working for the guard!_

Nedd rolled his eyes. _Okay man. You've told me that, like, fifty times already,_ he snapped. Dan shrugged and clamored down from the top bunk.

Nedd stood up and stretched. Suddenly a bright array of colors burst through his skull, and his head pounded like a base drum. Fatigue smothered him like a blanket. Dan stared at him strangely.

_You okay?_ He hummed. Nedd shook himself as though trying trying to shake off the pain exploding in his head.

_Its nothing._ Nedd said. _It'll go away._

They left the barracks early to avoid getting caught in the crowd. As they walked Nedd glanced up at the bright, almost blinding lights hanging firmly above. Almost instantly his palms started to sweat. He had never realized how brightly lit the hallways were. Dan started saying something exitedly, and for a minute Nedd hadn't even realized he had spoke.

_... I wonder what my first job will be,_ Dan said almost to himself. Nedd wanted to hit him over the head and shut him up, but he knew better. _I wonder if he'll make me patrol the basement. I heard its really wet down there---_

_Its dark, too, right?_ Nedd interrupted. Dan nodded impatiently.

_Well yeah, of course it is. They haven't lit lights down there since the pipes' broke._

He paused thoughtfully. Two years ago the basement hadn't even been the basement- it was just known as the Lab Foyer, the first and smallest floor on the ship. It was made of tall, wide rooms and winding hallways that had been flooded with inches of water over time. A pipe had burst long ago that nobody had bothered to fix, it wet the circuits, destroying the lights and all the experiments, and had even set some of the rooms on fire from the sparks. They abandoned it after it had destroyed itself. To keep everyone from going down there they infested it with crazed guard slogs and locked it up with metal doors. It was cheaper to have it there then to get rid of it, though they were saving up to have it removed so that the craft could move faster. There were rumors of a crazy experiment living down there that guarded a metal safe full of cash, but Nedd doubted it.  
Nedd's head felt like it was burning on the inside, and he found himself stumbling instead of walking. He looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint what was causing him such agony. It came to him in a flash: it was the lights. He felt like they were melting a hole in his head, though they barely seemed to bother Dan. Dan was still talking about his job, but Nedd hadn't been listening.

_Speaking of the basement,_ Dan said, _I heard that since the slog attack they've programmed a new lock that can only be opened with an access key. I think its about time they did that. The slogs would've never attacked if they couldn't-_

_They have the key?_ Nedd hummed in surprise. They turned down the hallway and into a crossroad between two corridors. Nedd looked out the window; he could see the tower, standing high and regal and curved to a point, blocking out the faint sunrise. Nedd couldn't help but admire it despite his desperation.

_Well yeah, of course they do._ Dan said with a careless motion. Without saying what he was doing Nedd walked quickly down the hall in the direction of the tower. _Where are you going?_ Dan asked in suprise, running to catch up. Nedd didn't answer.

They entered a small booth plated with mirrors; the main elevator. Nedd punched a button, squinting against the single light shining from a hole in the ceiling. Dan figured that Nedd wanted a job too. He rocked calmly back and forth as the elevator shot upwards before grinding unexpectantly to a hault, flinging both the interns from inside. They found themselves in the tower, which was suprisingly empty. It was a large, round room with a domed ceiling and dozens of computers that blinked on and off at random. Dan shrugged.

_I guess nobodys' clocked in yet,_ he said, sounding uninterested. Nedd approached a desk off to the left, pulled out a random drawer, and filed through it quickly. Finding nothing, he stuck his arm inside and shifted through the papers, but he still couldn't reach the back.

Dan jumped. _I don't think you should do that._ he said worriedly. Nedd grunted in reply, but didn't appear to hear him. Suddenly, without even realizing it, he shoved the desk roughly. It groaned and tipped over in a puff of dust, causing folders and stray papers to skitter across the floor. Nedd seemed to find what he was looking for; it was a packet containing a flat metal rectangle that was a dull brick red. It had a barcode printed on one side, and was lined with numbers on the other. Nedd made a break for the door. Dan stood in his way, anger in his eyes.

_What do you think you're doing?!_ he snapped. Nedd pushed him aside and entered the elevator. Dan followed him as he pushed the button. _You can't just steal from people, especially not the guards..._ Dan whined. Nedd kept quiet; he barely knew what he was doing himself. All he had to trust were his instincts, which were telling him to head for the only place in the entire craft that wasn't lit: the basement.

They weaved through the crowds of vykkers and interns, Nedd with a deer-in-headlights look on his face, and Dan looking crestfallen as though suddenly realizing everything he thought he knew was a lie.

When they reached an empty hallway Dan dove in front of Nedd, fire in his eyes.  
_Spill it, Nedd,_ he snapped. _What do you want with the access key to the basement?_

_Get out of my way._ Nedd growled savagely. Dan shook his head.

_No._ he said smugly.

_I said,_ Nedd said, sizing him up. He suddently towered over Dan like a massive thug. _Get out of my way._

Dan was slammed against the wall effortlessly by Nedd, who held him wriggling by his neck as though he were merely a ragdoll. He leaned in close, so close that their faces almost touched, so that Nedd was staring at him with wide, dark brown, threataning eyes. Dan cringed helplessly, his hands clasped around Nedd's wrist as though trying to free himself.

_When I tell you to move, you move, no questions. If you don't listen i'll gut you alive like the eel you are and feed your entrails to the slogs without feeling any remorse. Understand?_

This was not like Nedd at all, Dan thought. He always jumped at the slightest chance of danger, but he never caused it. Dan gulped visibly and nodded as best he could, his face turning a sickly shade of periwinkle from lack of air. Nedd dropped him and he fell to the floor, gasping. Then he turned smartly and marched the other way without looking back.

Nedd came to the main intersection on the first floor and squinted his eyes against the light. The paint on the walls were scratched in places, and he could still catch a faint whiff of snoozi gunpowder in the air. The hallway was mostly deserted. He approached the broad metal doors marked 'BASEMENT- ENTER WITH CAUTION' in bright orange letters, sweat drenching his back from the light beating down on his skin, and stuck the key in the small, slit-shaped lock. It beeped faintly and the doors swung open with a loud clang, revealing the imposing darkness ahead. A few vykkers stopped walking and looked over at him, wondering what a lowly intern would want to do with the basement. Nedd looked around worriedly, took a deep breath, and stepped into the darkness ahead.

~{.epidemic.}~

Dan still couldn't understand what had happened, but he wasn't about to let it go. He followed Nedd carefully and watched the door close behind him. He reached into his pocket and fingered the key inside- Nedd had forgotten that Dan, seeing as he was now a guard, had one too. Now, he decided, i'll just have to wait.


	6. Chapter 6

1Nedd winced against the cold air as the doors slammed shut behind him. His head's pounding receded to a muffled thump that Nedd recognized as his own heartbeat. He stood shock-still, waiting patiently for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It happened startlingly fast. Like a light at the end of a tunnel, the basement illuminated itself in a dim, greenish glow. Nedd was suprised- his night vision had never been this good. He looked around, wondering if an unseen lamp was responsible, but he found nothing.

He stepped forward carefully, his foot creaking against a damp step. The basement had been made out of wood covered in metal plates: it was much cheaper that way. However, the water from the leaky pipes had soaked through and rotted the wood, making the entire structure unstable.  
The wood's groaning made Nedd jump, so he ran down the steps as fast as he could. He stamped the ground with his other foot, and was satisfied to find that the floor there was made out of actual steel.

'What now?' He wondered. At his sides were long hallways leading deeper into the basement. He continued down the path in front of him as though it were no big deal.

Nedd soon found himself passing bizzare rooms and hellish corridors that made his heart convulse. The rooms were packed to the brim with jars and tools like that out of a horror film. He saw huge glass cases containing bizzare, mangled creatures preserved in formaldahyde; a giant eyeball the size of his entire torso floating in a jar; imposing, stuffed scrabs with much too many legs; broken test tubes resting on moudly desks containing a black, bitter foam.

'No wonder this place was abandoned,' Nedd thought with a shudder.

A faint glow shimmered ahead, like sunlight passed through stained glass. He flinched instinctively as the light touched his body, but was relieved to find that it didn't hurt him. He passed through it to see what was causing it.

Nedd came to a huge room built somewhat like a subway a hundred feet tall and a hundred feet wide. At the way top of the tunnel were small, blue light bulbs that lit the entire room brightly despite their size. Around the outside of the tunnel, where Nedd was standing, was concrete grading surrounded by thick wire. He approached the wire and peeked over it. Over the edge was a wide trench full of rapidly-running water that was constantly churning and gurgling. It looked to be at least twenty feet deep. Nedd suddenly realised where he was standing; he was in the ship's cooling system, the tunnels that wrapped around the generator and prevented it from overheating. He sighed in relief, feeling strangely comforted.

Something scuttled behind him. Nedd swung around.

Nothing.

Something scuttled to his left and vanished into the hallway's darkness. Nedd turned.

Nothing again.

Then, unexpectantly, something slammed him flat against the ground and tried to maul his leg!  
Nedd sprang forward, panting with terror. A slog was circling him viciously, foam sputtering down its jaws. It had pale, sickly skin like something that had spent its entire life in the dark. Without warning three more slogs appeared, looking just as vicious and hungry as the first. The pack trembled with glee at the thought of fresh intern meat.

_Niiice sloggies,_ Nedd hummed, his voice trembling. He tried to back up but was blocked by the wire. _Goooood sloggies..._

The slogs were unjaded by his attempt to calm them. They stumbled forward, their gums pulled back in a vicious grin, revealing sharp canines. What appeared to be the leader of the pack jumped forward, its mouth open impossibly wide, its throat a gaping hole. It slammed into Nedd with the force of a cannon, knocking the breath from his lungs. The other three pounced, yelping, and Nedd vanished under the thrashing pile of slogs.

Time slowed. The atmosphere grew tense. Something struck Nedd like a brick to his skull, revealing itself as an ancient, primordial instinct.

His claws tore through the slog's flesh like butter. Blood filled the air. The frenzied cries of slogs grew as Nedd hauled one into the air and slammed it against the wall with as much force as he could muster, breaking its neck. The slogs jumped at his back, creating long, jagged gashes. Nedd howled and slammed one to the floor, disreguarding his wounds, and dug his claws into his throat. He felt a burning sensation in the back of his head. He was killing, he was _surviving_, and he liked it!

Only two were left. He jolted to the left and broke through one effortlessly, his long, spidery hand erupting from its back. Its spine snapped inbetween his fingers, and it died with a sickening yelp. The remaining slog screamed in terror and began running as fast as it could to avoid Nedd's wrath. It slammed itself against a vent in the wall and scurried inside. The vent wasn't far back, however, and it found itself trapped.

Nedd reached inside in an attempt to pull it out, but it was too far back. The slog nipped his hand and scuttled backwards, wimpering loudly.

Nedd slid to the floor and leaned against the wall for support, breathing as heavily as if he had run a mile. The slog could be heard moving inside the vent, eager to escape. Nedd forced himself to stand. Carefully, Nedd tore a hunk of flesh from the dead slog and placed it inside the vent.

The slogs in the basement were starved, cannibalistic creatures who were drawn to all matters of meat like candy. The slog snapped up the chunk of grisle from his departed companion eagerly before vanishing back into the vent. Nedd cooed to it gently and placed more meat into the opening, this time closer to the exit. The slog stepped forward tenatively and lapped up the meat. Nedd repeated this process until the slog was comfortable enough to leave the vent. The slog was a startlingly dumb specimen and seemed to have completely forgotten the terror it had faced just minutes ago.

After the slog had eaten all the meat it began nudging Nedd's hand, begging for more. Nedd patted it gently on the head and it left the vent, its entire backside swaying. It didn't have a tail, so it shook its hips instead. Nedd picked it up and set it on its lap. Its tounge rolled as it panted, absorbing the attention like a sponge.

Nedd suddenly had it in a strangle hold. It screamed and kicked, clawing at Nedd' wrists with all its might. Nedd held it firmly with one arm, then, without thinking, tore through his own face with his claws. Blood filled his mouth and spilled out onto the floor, but Nedd didn't even notice. He opened his mouth for the first time, revealing vertical rows of needle-like teeth. It was a horrible sight. In his haste he had cut through more of his mouth than the actual stitches. He bit down on the slog's neck as hard as he could, drawing blood. The slog broke free, howling shrilly as it vanished into the darkness of the basement, leaving Nedd alone in the cooling system.

Pain exploded in Nedd's head. He was dimly aware of the cuts and bruises all over his body, more specifically, the one over his mouth.

'What's happening to me!' He tried to hum. A sickening gurgle of blood came instead. 'Why the hell is this happening! What the hell did I just do!'

He dug his claws into his head, his eyes red with pain and confusion. He collapsed from blood loss. His vision swam before his eyes. Nedd managed to examine one of the gashes in his hand. The wound, which had been a bloody mess seconds ago, was now swollen on the outsides. The bloated skin pressed together, stopping the blood flow. Somehow, the cylonite in his blood had begun healing him.

The pain subsided. Nedd slumped to the ground, his limbs trembling and convulsing. He could barely see. He could feel his skin stretching over his injuries on its own accord, like a living, breathing animal.

And then... nothing.


End file.
